


December, 2005

by JJK



Series: Life, Interrupted [7]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Time Travel, a collision of Grantaires, dislocation, this may get a little confusing, time traveler's wife au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJK/pseuds/JJK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Grantaire?” he asked, far less perturbed by that fact that he was actually speaking to himself on an old cell phone than he should be.<br/>“I’m on the corner of 5th and Jefferson. I think I dislocated my knee and I’m freezing my balls off.”<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	December, 2005

_December, 2005 (Enjolras is 30, Grantaire is 33 and 28)_  


The phone rang, shrill and urgent in the quiet of the night. Grantaire rolled over onto his stomach and lifted an eye to peer into the gloom. Bright lights from their neighbour’s gaudy Christmas decorations shone through the curtains which Grantaire had forgotten to pull closed and it was snowing gently. Evidently Enjolras was still out. He’d been at a dinner with some important potential backers for his latest save the world scheme, that Grantaire had honest to god tried to sound interested in, and clearly wasn’t home yet. His sleep addled brain remembered something about the opera? Which would have just been hilarious.  


He reached out to grab the phone from the cradle where it stood on Enjolras’ side of the bed, when he realised it wasn’t the house phone that was ringing.  


Utterly confused and far too asleep to be dealing with this detective shit, Grantaire sat up and rubbed at his eyes. Eventually he figured out the ringing was coming from the dresser across the room. Stumbling forwards he yanked open the top drawer to see Enjolras’ old, battered, but still working cell phone, buzzing and blinking and ringing.  


It was an unknown number with a Chicago area code.  


“Hello?” he answered; voice foggy with sleep.  


“Oh thank god you still have this phone.”  


“Grantaire?” he asked, far less perturbed by that fact that he was actually speaking to himself on an old cell phone than he should be.  


“I’m on the corner of 5th and Jefferson. I think I dislocated my knee and I’m freezing my balls off.”  


“Give me twenty minutes.” Grantaire said, throwing open the wardrobe and pulling on a pair of jeans. Memories flooded back, he didn’t envy the situation his younger self was currently in.  


“I don’t have twenty minutes! I’m going to freeze to death!”  
Grantaire tried not to laugh at himself. It wasn’t a particularly fond memory, but he was living proof that this incident wouldn’t be fatal.  


“You will not freeze to death, I can attest to that. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He hung up and wiggled into a sweat shirt, grabbing an armful of warm clothes and racing down the stairs. He plucked the car keys from their hook in the kitchen and was halfway out the front door before he remembered to go back and snatch and bottle of something off the counter.  


Enjolras’ silver Honda sat on the driveway, where it usually did. He wasn’t particularly fond of owning a car, as he constantly reminded Grantaire, but needs must. And he understood the necessity that came from sometimes having to drive halfway across the state to pick up some future or past incarnation of Grantaire from a ditch, or a police station.  


Grantaire usually didn’t drive. He hated to think what might happen if he Travelled mid-journey, but as far as he could tell, he’d already made this journey once and not crashed, so he figured he’d be fine.  


=  


A younger and generally much worse looking version of himself was shivering in the building snow, half inside the phone box which stood on the corner of 5th and Jefferson when Grantaire pulled the car to a stop. He was naked, scowling and his knee was indeed black and blue and bent and an unnatural angle. Christ, he’d forgotten just how much he’d looked like a drug addict in the beginning, Grantaire couldn’t help but think as he climbed out of the car and threw clothes and his younger self.  


“Hi,” he said, already assessing the damage to the knee, kneeling down and handing the younger Grantaire a bottle of brandy. “You’ll need this.”  


“Thanks.” Younger Grantaire hissed through his clenched jaw. “Took your fucking time.”  


“Icy roads. Didn’t want to crash.”  


“So you thought you’d let yourself freeze to death instead?”  


Grantaire ignored the comment and moved to kneel above the leg in question, one knee either side of the frozen ankle. He didn’t need to ask what had happened, he remembered well enough trying to outrun the Doberman that was guarding the alleyway he’d materialised in, vaulting the chain link fence and jumping from too high, his knee being wrenched out of place as his foot landed on the frozen pavement and slid away from him. It hurt just thinking about it.  


“Drink,” he instructed. “This is gonna hurt like hell.”  


“Great.” Grantaire replied, but dutifully took a long glug of brandy.  


Grantaire was well versed in first aid, and he’d asked Combeferre for enough medical advice to know how to properly deal with the most injuries he could imagine befalling. 

He hadn’t actually had to re set and knee before though. Well, he had – in a sense – and he knew from the experience of running around on it for the past five years that he’d obviously done a decent enough job – but still.  


“Just get on with it,” his younger self hissed at him. “My ass is numb,”  


Grantaire took a deep breath and gently repositioned the ankle so that it was correctly aligned with the knee. Grantaire let out a whimper of pain before lifting the brandy bottle to drink through it.  


He braced a hand on the frozen thigh and placed the other under on the stone cold sole of the foot.  


“Ready?”  


“Yes.” He exhaled.  


“Three, two –”  


He pushed on two.  


Grantaire let out a howl of pain that ripped through the air, causing a few lights to flick on in the building above them.  


“Okay?” Grantaire asked, hands still in position, scared to move them.  


“Fuck,” he heard himself swear. “Fucking _fuck_.”  


“Alright, think you can stand?” he asked, knowing full well that his injured self couldn’t, but was about to try anyway. Which he did, and proceeded to fall forwards until Grantaire could catch him.  


He managed to bundle him into the back seat of the car, sideways with his leg extended out, and wrapped him in layers of warm fleece and flannel. He turned the heating up as far it could go, blasting warmth at the pair of them and very slowly pulled off the curb the make the journey home.  


“Got to remember to never, ever let Enjolras throw out that phone.” Grantaire mumbled to himself in the backseat. “Thanks by the way. I didn’t mean to be such a prick before.” He added, eye lids drooping shut as his head dropped to loll against his shoulder. Grantaire peered into the rear view mirror and just smiled. He couldn’t shake the feeling, though, that next time he might not make it there to help, or he might not find a phone.  


=  


He pulled into the driveway and saw that the hall lights were on. Enjolras was home.  


He woke Grantaire, as much as was possible and half helped, half carried him up the icy driveway. They made it to the door and managed to fumble with the keys and somehow get it unlocked.  


“Grantaire?”  


He would have looked up to see the face that accompanied Enjolras’ voice, carried down from the top of the stairs, but at that moment his younger self’s leg had buckled and he was pretty much pre-occupied with carrying him through to the front room.  


He heard worried footsteps scurry down the stairs, though, and looked up from where he’d dropped Grantaire onto the couch, to see a wine flushed Enjolras looking utterly perplexed.  


“Is that…is that you?”  


“Yeah,” Grantaire stood up and cracked his back. Whilst it was fairly normal to run into various aged selves, and whilst Enjolras had often encountered older or younger Grantaires, he realised this was the first time he’d seen two together. Which reminded Grantaire of the conversation he’d had with Courfeyrac when he’d eventually found out about Grantaire’s condition, and he had to supress and amused little groan.  


“Is he – are you.” Enjolras faltered. “Are you alright; both yous?”  


“Remember March 2000?”  


Enjolras gaped at the Grantaire on the couch who was drifting in and out of consciousness; overcome with pain and cold, drink and fatigue.  


“Okay, we need blankets, hot drinks. I think we have some deep heat for his knee and I’ll ring Combeferre,”  


“Enjolras,” Grantaire stilled him. “He’ll be gone any second. There’s no point.”  


Sure enough the Grantaire on the sofa began to disappear.  


“Will he be alright?”  


“As ever,” Grantaire shrugged.  


“You don’t seem very concerned for yourself,” Enjolras rounded on him.  


“I don’t know, it was five years ago. I’m fine now.” What more did Enjolras want? He’d broken his rule about not driving to pick himself up at, what was it, three in the morning, re-set a fucking knee and nursed him back to some semblance of health with brandy and blankets. How much more concerned could he get?  


“Yes, but. You terrified me when you came back. And Combeferre. And the hospital staff, who wanted to know how you’d been sitting in snow, in one of the warmest Marchs on record.”  


“But I obviously recovered.” Grantaire reminded him.  


“Eventually.” Enjolras admitted, though he still looked shaken.  


Grantaire strode across the room and pulled him into a hug.  


“How did dinner go?”  


“Oh…yes.” Enjolras blinked a couple of times before replying. “It went about as well as I’d hoped it would. They’re going to support us.”  


“That’s great!” which it was. Grantaire may not believe in the cause, may not see how Enjolras could possibly succeed in righting all the wrongs he hoped to in the world, but he couldn’t deny that more funding wouldn’t help them try.  


“Uh-huh,”  


He could tell Enjolras was distracted, possibly still stuck on thoughts of March 2000.  


“You sure he’ll be alright?”  


“Enjolras, it was me – me from five years ago. Look at me,”  


Enjolras reluctantly dragged his eyes up to meet Grantaire’s.  


“I’m here. I’m fine.”  


“You’re an ass hole.” Enjolras countered.  


Grantaire laughed. “That too.”  


“I forget,” Enjolras said, suddenly sleepy, dragging himself towards the stairs. “That you don’t always go to the meadow. I forget that sometimes it can be dangerous.”  


Grantaire trailed behind him flicking off the lights as they went. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have anything comforting to offer so he didn’t bother. He’d been enough of a support this evening already. He just needed to crash and let it all wash over him. Enjolras thought he didn’t care about himself, but that a dodgy knee and a spell of hypothermia was nothing compared to what could happen. He knew his luck wouldn’t hold out forever. Someday he’d find himself somewhere, and he wasn’t going to survive.

**Author's Note:**

> As always thanks to [Kim](http://combeferree.tumblr.com/) for her continued help with this :))
> 
> -
> 
> This chapter may have become a little confusing with the two Grantaires, if anything needs clarifiying, please just ask! (I know I said I was going to write some happier chapters for Grantaire, I'm sorry :/)
> 
> -
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://trenchcoatsandtimetravel.tumblr.com/)


End file.
